The Dream
by Noondarkly
Summary: Based on the scene where Sara is trapped in the infirmary and Michael saves her. My take is slightly different... explicit adult language, MA rating, please read accordingly. Also, comments more than welcome.


Michael listened in horror at the beastly sounds of the cons, still kept hostage by their cell bars- but for how long? He knew it was only a matter of time before they broke free. They had two guards, no one could stop them. he also knew that they couldn't possibly have any actual objective: they couldn't think of an escape (no one apart from him, in fact, even toyed with the idea), most of them couldn't think at all, period. Their wrath would be leashed out against anyone who came their way. Michael checked his watch nervously: half an hour passed since he returned from the infirmary, alas, without possessing the eagerly desired key. He was planning a feigned illness attack in order to get back and steal the tiny, crucial object. But that would not happen that day; the regulations will have been made stricter by nightfall, he might not even see Veronica until the next day. Three weeks only... three weeks left for Linc...

No. That could not happen. Not now, not any other time. No one, let alone that pitiful mob could endanger his precisely, meticulously worked out plan, the project of his lifetime.

He had planned to stay put and wait for things to die out peacefully, but there was no time for that. The minute the cons got the cell doors open, Michael knew hell would break loose very fast. His own celldoor squeaked as he pushed it open carefully to peek outside.

He had been right. Hell was already brewing: two guards dead, their throats slit, their corpses frozen in their own blood on the floor. Above them, T-Bag and a bit further, Abruzzi were acting like the godfathers of the establishment. They probably were, too. Michael stared in dismay at the dead guards who only a mere hour before joked and teased the cons. He looked up to try and discover the source of the horrific murder but all he saw was a gigantic mass of yelling, frightening beings who have long ago ceased to be human. The mass of limbs and frothy mouths and bloodshot eyes was pressing into every direction, objects flew around in the air, monstrous bellowing filled the tall jail-building with echoes.

He started walking down the stairs, trying to attract as little attention as possible. He knew that many of the cons would be happy to cut his throat without the slightest speck of bad conscience. And then all would be over for Linc.

'I want the doctor!', someone roared, and Michael's blood froze.

Sarah.

He glanced up, he wanted more than anything to see who said the beastly words, but by that time, the mob had started pushing into one direction. He knew perfectly well where they were heading. To find the only person who was helpless against them, who despite the kindness that she showed towards them from the very beginning, regardless of the amount and severity of their crimes, was a pain in their eyes.

Michael let the crowd take him with it, while his brain was scanning possible plans with the speed of lightning. Any kind of plan would do. Alone, by himself against the several dozens of irate convicts he had no chance. But he knew, he felt it with every fibre of his being that in that moment, the woman could only rely on him.

The door to the infirmary was closed, but a few cons started smashing up the thick windows with any objects their dirty hands could lay on. The glass started giving in fast, huge shards of glass separated from the frame and fell to splinters on the floor, stepped on by feet that didn't mind getting bloody. Michael felt dizzy, blood pulsated in his head, all he heard was the maddening drumming of his life-force as a steady background to the unearthly symphony of primordial screaming, the instinct to live, to hurt, to survive as the strongest in a race. He was unable to think straight, he had no idea what to do. Over the elbow of John Abruzzi he spotted the woman, crouched behind her desk, something sharp in her hand. He could see from there that she was shaking like a leaf. His cool was slipping through his fingers fast, for the first time since he got in to Fox River: apart from Linc, she was the only creature in the establishment who mattered to him, and while his brother was safely tucked behind bars, so to speak, for three more weeks, she was in close and imminent danger.

'People!', T-Bag screamed above the crowd's cacophonic yells. 'You all know I prefer the stronger sex but in this special case, I would gladly make an exception... and seeing that it was me who freed y'all, it would be noble of you to allow me a first helping.'

'The hell we will', several of them retorted. 'We were here first.'

'Gentlemen, there really is no reason why we should squabble over such an insignificant detail... I would do you a favour by oiling up the way, if you get my drift', he added with a smirk.

There was laughter, and Michael's stomach tightened as he helplessly tried to hold onto something. Instant hurt reached his nerve system and looking at his hand, he saw a shard of glass his fist ran into.

'She's mine!', he yelled as loud as he could. So that all of them would hear him. Before they had the time to even stare at him, he continued. 'Abruzzi! You know my plan is bulletproof. You also know that once this is over, everyone goes back to their cells. You will need me more than you will need the air to stay alive in here... and outside', he added, whispering into John's ear who looked around to see if anyone else heard the magical words. He was in on the escape plan and he sure as hell would not jeopardize a perfect life on the outside for a stupid shag he could get any time of any week from several paid concubines during conjugal.

'For this very reason, she is mine.'

Abruzzi's sly glance fell on Michael. For a few moments he examined the young man who stood there like one frozen, no feelings on his face, his fist round and his knuckes white.

Michael fought hard not to show any of the frantic inner turmoil that threatened to crumble him like a sheet of ashen paper. If they didn't buy it, all would be over. Sarah would be abused, defiled, then mercilessly killed.

Abruzzi made his decision slowly. He lifted his hand and looked around like a dictator from a communist country.

'Scofield has first visitation', he spoke articulately, vociferously, his eyes daring the thunder of convict defiance. 'To appease everyone, you can _watch_.'

Michael's throat went dry. He heard Abruzzi's words, he heard his blood drum in his ear with the ferocity of a gigantic dam ready to explode. The slender, delicate Sarah was huddled up behind her desk, her face expressing a terror so obvious that Michael had to avert his gaze. She must have heard it all. He knew he would have to try the impossible.

'No one will watch. I want the privacy of my own cell, behind a sheet', he said, lightning flaring up in his steely eyes.

There was a steady murmur of dislike. Michael hoped against hope they would acquiesce. Otherwise...

'No!', Abruzzi's thunderous voice cut the discontent short. 'You can have the bitch but we will watch.'

Michael thought he was going nuts. In his head there was clamouring, countless beastly roars, loud cackling, repulsive sounds that could not be called human. He knew he could do nothing else. He must do as the mob desires, or else she will die.

Sarah listened to the discourse with trembling limbs and a stomach that hid at the pit of her being. Her heart was threatening to give up on her. Aware that unless she got into the hands of Michael, her body would be defiled in the most hideous way, she listened to his persuasive words, praying they would accept his proposition. The only man she was able to trust inside the walls of the jail was Michael.

She watched his face as the verdict fell. She couldn't read anything else in his beautiful eyes than cruelty and animal instincts. He smirked at Abruzzi and even gave a high-five to T-Bag. Has he changed countenance like most of the convicts who came to this prison? Has he morphed into a heartless, immoral and repulsive being, without principles, someone who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted?

She started as they broke the door before him. The remnants of the glass fell in a million chips onto the floor. She cried without the sound as she watched the man who, upon getting closer to her, jerked her off the ground to her shaking legs. The squeezing of his fingers on her arm caused less pain than what her soul felt upon gazing into his otherwise beautiful eyes. His mesmerising glance seemed alien, his lips opened to a dirty smirk. Sarah hung her head, trying to hide her sobs. It was over.

'Please calm down Sarah, I'm not going to hurt you', she heard, or she imagined the words in her throbbing heart. His breath was licking her face, his two hands thrusted her onto the table with one move, after having pushed off the glass splinters and everything else with one sweep of his long arm.

She stared at him, astonished. Behind the smirk there was the Michael she had grown to like so much over the weeks. The Michael who had gradually enchanted her with his soft-spoken politeness, his intelligence and sensitivity. She had instinctively felt, from the very first moment she saw him, that he did not belong there. Day after day, she awaited the minute she would administer his insulin shot, wipe his arm, ask him to keep it squeezed, make insignificant small talk for the few seconds before he would have to leave. During those minutes she was free to roam his arm with her glance, and marvel at the unheard of tattoo design. She was free to relish the sight of his hands that ended in the most gracious, amazingly long fingers she had ever seen. As the days, weeks passed, not once did she imagine those fingers comb her hair, graze her cheekbone, her lips. And after a while, she needed all her strength to look away when he looked at her. He radiated such power that would have frighetend her otherwise, a power that she knew she would gladly succumb to, if need be. She wasn't sure her feelings were right, but what she knew even less was whether he reciprocated any of it, or was she just falling for him because he was so unlike everyone else inside the prison, or anyone else she had ever met, for that matter, but for him, she would remain just a female inside Fox River, someone other than a convict, someone who took him seriously. He was polite with everyone, even with the worst of them out there. But even if she was not certain of his feelings, she was certain of her own, and her own feelings told her that he was a man she could happily grow old with.

The moment so succumb to his power was here. She breathed with difficulty, seeing him stand before her. He took off his shirt, then his tee. The cons roared, and she closed her eyes for a split second. Would she live after this? Would it be worth living after this? Would she be able to face him after this?

His glance pierced her as his hand lifted to her face. He slid his palm gently over to her neck, his eyes expressed things that frightened her more than the roaring of the prisoners. Michael's slim body made its way between her thighs. She propped herself on the table, shaking, but he suddenly jerked her towards him. His hands were on her hips, his face was as close to hers as never before. she felt his breath on her skin, slightly sour and tired, she saw the drops of sweat around his nose and lips. His hand slid upwards on her waist, up until it reached her back. He embraced her slowly, then his hands travelled around her fragile body and stopped on her breasts. She was panting, and he was beyond knowing where the situation would take them. She saw the excited prisoners above Michael's shoulder, like cheering watchers outside an arena filled with gladiators, she saw a few of them touch themselves, and she shuddered at the sight. Returning her attention to Michael, she tried to stifle the shame that slowly crept into her heart. Her face felt hot, her vision was dim. Was it possible that the long-awaited moment, when she would give herself to him, would happen under such horrendous circumstances?

'Listen to me', Michael whispered as he leaned in. 'We must pretend. Please believe me, I don't want to hurt you... the day I hurt you will be my last one', he added, pulling her closer to him with another jerk. There was nowhere else to go, he could not get any closer, he was planted right between her legs, and through the fright of it all, she clearly felt his desire. He _moved_.

She nodded automatically. She should have been scared as hell. Disgusted. Under different circumstances-

Under different circumstances she would have squeezed him to herself like crazy, she would have kissed him _a perdre haleine_ like her life depended on it, she would have offered herself, body and soul, to the man who felt affected by her just as much.

All this shot through her brain, when Michael's hand slipped under her skirt.

_Sorry,_ his eyes said, and with one move, he tore her underwear off, the lace cutting into her skin a little before leaving her exposed. A terrible roar shot across the space as the prisoners cheered at the new development.

She started a bit, but looking into his eyes, she was beginning to be oblivious to everything else. She felt like she wouldn't mind seeing him _last_, before she died, this man with the strange emotions welling up in his intense blue eyes, this delicate-looking, but endlessly strong man. Whose hand was fumbling with his own zipper.

'I won't do _anything_, okay?', he spoke, his hand resting on her arm and her thigh. He planted a wet kiss on her neck as he thrusted himself towards her with a strength that made the table shake. She felt him between her naked thighs, she felt his skin, she felt his manhood, but he was not touching her, not really. He pushed into her repeatedly, but he never _touched_ her.

But even if they weren't connected, her strength was starting to escape her. Her mind stopped in its tracks, her eyes didn't embrace anything but Michael's slightly sad, intense glance, his shapely lips behind which she saw his teeth gloss. His hot breath was burning her mouth, his strong arm was holding her tight against his body-

She lost it.

She kissed him wildly, and he kissed her back with a passion that seemed like an explosion. His mouth moved with devotion under her soft lips, his tongue exploring her mouth, at first carefully, then more and more daringly. Sarah sucked in his passion with her eyes closed, but opened her eyes, scared at the low moan she heard escape his throat.

Michael was looking at her, sombre desire, passion and almost adoration in his eyes. His parted lips revealed snow-shite teeth that shone with want. His hand slid under her blouse, his fingers were scorching her skin, and she twitched helplessly under his touch.

His hand closed on her breast like it never had any other purpose in life.

Neither of them heard anything else but them, the two of them, the loud breathing and panting of them-

It was then she noticed they were alone. She looked around in surprise, but she didn't see anyone. It was surreal, it was- like a _dream_.

He turned around, then slowly back at her with a sigh. He hung his head and said, 'Thank God'.

In his voice she thought (hoped) she heard disappointment, and that made her blood boil.

She pulled him to her and sealed his lips with hers.

'Sarah', he moaned before her tongue filled his mouth.

What are you doing? Having sex with a convict? Have you lost your mind? What will come out of this? What will happen afterwards? Why do you feel attracted to the bad guys, always-

A thousand questions arose in her but she discarded each and every one of them. She could not pay attention to anything else but the way his body pressed into hers, the way his trousers tickled her wet pubic hair.

He lifted her arms and tugged her top off. His gorgeous body was tight against her breasts, his arms encircled her waist like a human handcuff, his lips were kissing her every part they reached, emitting sounds of one drowning. He kissed her neck, her chin, her nose, her fluttering eyelids, her forehead, and again and again, her swollen, mesmerising lips.

She couldn't take it any more. She reached into his trousers, and when she granned him, Michael's throat let out a loud moan. Her hand slid over his shapely buttocks, and as she parted her legs even more to give him better access, she felt him slowly and softly push into her, deeper and deeper, until he filled her up completely. She hung her head back and a tremor travelled across her entire body.

Michael felt the power gathering within. He hadn't been with anyone for months, and Sarah's kisses were driving him insane. Her body was so warm and delightful... resting inside her felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But even with his culminating desire, he didn't care about anything else but see her happy.

He hugged her tight and pushed her down on her back. Her pleading glance followed his every move, and that made him feel like the happiest man alive.

His experienced hands peeled every item of clothing off her perfect body. Her pale skin was reminiscent of a just ripening peach, the tiny, unkempts triangle at the meeting of her thighs the door to wonders he wasn't sure he deserved.

He leaned over her and agve her a kiss on the lips. He kissed her slowly, with strength and deman, but she didn't mind. The desire that was building in her was stifling everything else. She wanted to feel Michael inside her, his moves as he loved her.

His lips slid over to her neck, then her collarbone, then on her left breast, the tiny button that grew hard under the touch of his lips and tongue. He spent more time on the right breast: he gently took the soft mound between his hands, and the nipple between his lips. She heard her own voice, but didn't recognize it: she had never emitted such sound before.

The man's tongue left her swollen nipple and slithered downwards. Her belly-button was taut, and her body writhed as his tongue took possession of the tiny crevice.

He parted her thighs with a deliberate move, and when he bent down to place a kiss on her most sensitive spot, Sarah bit her lip and her tense muscles implored him without a sound to stop teasing her. He ignored her pleas: his tongue slid along her labia, slowly, without any haste. She was so close to climaxing she could only grab the edge of her table and offer herself to his mercy. Behind her eyes pictures of fulfilled desire shot one after the other as he licked her slowly once more. Then, just as her breath stopped short in her lungs, his tongue pushed deep inside her. With gentle, licking movements of tongue and lips he was sending her afloat into the ocean of delight.

'Michael, I can't-', she whimpered, and he pulled away from her.

Out of divine grace, she thought, she was granted the strength to pull herself back from the brink of ecstasy. She wanted to experience it with him. Air was heaving inside her lungs, her entire body was aching from having had to stop her abandon, that bitter-sweet pain that didn't last long, because he touched her again, this time sending three long, shapely fingers into her warmth. They pushed in and pulled out slowly, and she was past caring when it hit her. She was shaking from head to toe, and moans of shamelessness left her throat at his each thrust in.

Shortly, he pulled her closer to the edge of the table. He pushed her legs open, positioned himself at her entrance and looking into her imploring eyes, he thrusted himself deep inside her once again. His manhood was hard and tense in her warm depths, but not for long. He left her body, then entered her again. Slowly, prolonguing the entering, making her feel his entire length and making himself feel the ready wetness of her core. His hands were tight on her sweaty breasts as he thrust himself into her repeatedly. Her hands grabbed his buttocks and pulled him even deeper inside her each time he took the plunge in her waters. He lay on top of her completely and continued the thrusts, kissing her, mixing their moans in a harmony of desire. He heard the storm brewing inside his head, he knew he could not last long.

Just then, her hips tensed against his, he felt her inner muscles kiss and suck his manhood as she climaxed with parted lips and eyes open wide. The tremor that shook her whole body shook him just as much, and with a few more hard thrusts he allowed himself to spread his warm gratitude inside her limp body. The deep grunt that left his throat seemed to prolongue her pleasure, and she rubbed herself to him, sending weaker and weaker waves of pleasure to his overloaded senses.

She didn't even have the strength to hug him as she lay there panting. He felt it, and it was he who hugged her. He pressed a gentle kiss on her swollen lips-

Sarah sat up in her bed with a moan, her bearth laboured and hot. Her room was veiled in the darkness of a 2 a.m., starlit night.

She fell back onto her pillow, panting.

Her dream had been so lifelike that the meeting of her thighs was wet and wanting.

As she relived the painfully delicious details of her dream in her too alert mind, there was one question that she could not discard.

_How will you face him tomorrow?_


End file.
